"The four intruders"

February 4th, 2026

At Shigeyoshi residence - 12:08 PM

Ray stood rooted to the wooden floor of his childhood home, staring in disbelief at the four women lounging on the old living room sofa like they belonged there. Confusion surged in his chest like a wave threatening to drown his thoughts. The silence was heavy - oppressive, even. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, voice low, confused, alert.

The women didn't answer. Instead, they simply... looked at him.

Each pair of eyes was different, yet all shared the same quality: calm. Not the calm of innocence, but the eerie stillness of people who knew exactly what they were doing.

Ray's eyes fell on the first woman to his left. She looked to be in her early to mid-thirties, maybe a few years older than him, but carried herself with a regal poise that made her seem timeless. Her light brown hair was smooth and fell gently around her shoulders, catching the light in warm chestnut waves. Her skin was flawless, pale but healthy, and her dark hazelnut eyes glowed with a mysterious depth. Her lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but not disapproval either - a serene, unreadable expression. She wore a long, flowing dress with intricate gold embroidery, her neck and collarbone lightly adorned with tattoos resembling ancient runes or symbols of power. She crossed her legs delicately, her posture perfect. She radiated authority. She was graceful, ethereal, like a queen unbothered by chaos. She didn't speak, but Ray felt her presence more than anyone's. He labeled her in his head: the Queen.

Next to her, lounging with a leg draped over the sofa arm, was a stark contrast.

Her bleached hair was buzzed on the sides and tousled on top, wild and styled with minimal effort. A thin scar ran from her jaw to her neck, and her ears were littered with small silver hoops. She was tall, easily the tallest of the four, and broad-shouldered with defined biceps and forearms that spoke of countless hours in the gym. Her black tank top clung to her sculpted form, revealing tattoos of wolves, thunderclouds, and jagged geometric shapes. She had an easy smirk, chewing gum like she didn't have a care in the world. Her eyes were a striking gray, like smoke, sharp and full of mischief. She cracked her knuckles without looking at him, then slowly turned her gaze toward him.

She exuded energy - chaotic, fun, dangerous. A rebel in human form. He could practically hear bass-heavy music when looking at her. The Wild One.

Then his eyes shifted to the third.

She was beautiful, but in a cold, immaculate way - the type of beauty that wasn't born, but engineered. Her platinum blonde hair was sleek and tied in a tight, high ponytail, not a single strand out of place. Her jaw was sharp, her posture upright and stiff. She wore a fitted, militaristic jacket, black with silver buttons, and her tattoos were minimal but precise - sharp angles and clean lines, almost mathematical. Her light brown eyes dissected him with precision. She didn't blink often. When she did, it felt rehearsed. She sat still, back straight, hands clasped in front of her like she was evaluating him.

This woman didn't exude warmth. She gave off calculation. Like she had already measured every possible outcome of this encounter and deemed him neither threat nor priority - yet. The Analyst.

And finally, his gaze landed on the last woman.

She was curled up in the corner of the sofa, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around them. A brunette with soft, chin-length hair that framed her small, porcelain face. Her brown eyes were wide, darting from Ray to the other women as if unsure whether to speak or disappear. She wore a light sweater, oversized, with sleeves that drooped past her hands. Tiny floral tattoos crawled up her collarbone and wrists, delicate and faint, like pencil sketches. She was the smallest among them, fragile-looking.

But Ray knew better than to underestimate anyone who made it this far into his house without triggering alarms or locks.

She was shy, yes - quiet, maybe - but silence often concealed something dangerous. She glanced at him through her lashes, and for a second, he saw something flicker. Something buried deep.

The Mouse.

The air was thick with tension. None of the women had answered him yet. He took a step forward. Their eyes tracked his movement, synchronised and fluid like a trained unit.

He exhaled. Long, slow. The adrenaline was beginning to simmer, his military instincts battling with the sheer bizarreness of this moment.

He asked again, this time more composed.

"What are you doing in my father's house?"

The word father acted like a trigger.

Their faces shifted - just slightly.

Brows raised. Eyes narrowed. Lips parted. It wasn't shock. It was... confusion.

The Queen tilted her head, the grace still intact, but her gaze sharpened.

The Wild One blinked. Her gum paused between chews.

The Analyst glanced briefly at the Queen, like recalculating variables.

The Mouse seemed the most affected. Her brows furrowed, and she looked down, lost in thought.

Then came the voice. Smooth, regal, measured.

"Your father?"

Ray nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving theirs. "Shinjo Shigeyoshi. This is his house."

The women exchanged glances. A silent language passed between them, like a web connecting minds.

Ray's fingers twitched. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

The Queen finally spoke again. "You're his son."

It wasn't a question. It was a realization.

Ray's frown deepened. "Why is that a surprise to you? Who are you?"

The Wild One chuckled dryly. "This just got interesting."

The Analyst finally spoke, her voice clipped and low. "You weren't expected."

The Mouse murmured, barely audible. "He never said he had a son."

Ray's mind began to race. He never said...?

Shinjo had never been an open man, especially after what happened with Risa. But to not even mention him?

He took another step forward. They didn't flinch. That alone told him they weren't ordinary civilians.

"I ask again," Ray said, voice firm now. "Who are you? And why are you here?"

The Queen stood slowly, her elegance never leaving her posture. She walked toward him, eyes locked on his. No aggression. No fear. Only... power.

"We are... the family of Shinjo Shigeyoshi," she said carefully. "And we did not expect his son to return. Not now."

Ray narrowed his eyes. Something about her tone. Too diplomatic. Too polished.

"Why? What are you hiding?" he asked.

She stopped just two feet from him. Close enough for him to smell her perfume. Jasmine and smoke.

"Everything," she said softly. "But perhaps... not for long."

Ray's heart beating just a little faster. He wasn't sure if he had walked into a trap, a mystery, or a reckoning.

But something was very wrong in his childhood home.

And it had four beautiful, dangerous secrets sitting on his father's couch.